Skip to main content

Performative Patriotism

I think we've now hit the point where we can safely say that this whole flag business is getting out of hand.

Yesterday's brouhaha over the size of Robert Jenrick's flag is merely the latest example of increasingly hysterical cloth-based discourse, it's been rumbling for a while, and I find it all a little baffling.

It's caught me  quite off-guard. Growing up in the seventies, eighties and nineties,the flag wasn't something you thought about very much. It was a fact of life,but you didn't wrap yourself in it. Overt patriotism was nothing to be proud of, in fact, it was a touch embarrassing. We used to mock Americans for their loudly proclaimed allegiance to their country, it's just not the sort of thing that's done, dear boy. The only time you saw flags being waved was the last night of the Proms, or news footage of some perfectly pleasant European town being comprehensively smashed up by football hooligans.

Even when there was a Britpop led revival, it was still a bit tongue in cheek, a nod and a wink, Austin Powers; Cool Britannia, while an awful phrase, was still about a nation at ease with itself, one that could use the flag, or not, not arsed.

Safe to say that's changed.

The 2012 Olympics,that last little outburst of national pride before we turned into the world's favourite punchline, was marked by the indelible image of the future PM waving a pair of flags when he got stuck on a zip-wire. It was a foretaste of things to come.

Now you're no-one if you haven't got a pair of crossed Union Flags in every room (or Jack, if you prefer.The long cherished pub bore's contention that the Union Jack is a naval signal only has withered in the face of everyone ignoring it, and vexillologists* cheerfully accept both). Politicians compete to be surrounded by as much red white and blue as humanly possible, Keir Starmer goes flag mad in an attempt to keep up with the Tories, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson's new throne room TV studio has Emperor Palpatine style drapes, even those MPs who haven't been able to get to the flag shop (Flags R Us? Flag-U-Like?Any of the shops in the Flag Quarter, really) what with lock-down have felt the need to put some Union flag bunting up when they've Zoomed in to the Commons. 

So when Charlie Stayt light heartedly mocked the size of Jenrick's flag, he wasn't, as it turns out, reading the room, well, not for some at any road. Outrage erupted in the easily outraged, and his co-host Naga Munchetty had to apologise for giggling. Quite why the permanently furious chose to train their ire upon a brown woman rather than the white man who made the joke is, of course, a complete mystery. As is the fact that none of them appeared to notice that Honest Bob's flag was upside down, so he either hates the Queen or was signalling that he was in distress. And so yet another front in our forever culture war opened up. 

All quite tiring, isn't it?

Where it took a turn for the even nastier was when the Conservative MP for Great Grimsby, Lia Nici, who is not noted for being one of Parliament's great thinkers, opined thusly: 

"Of course if people are not proud to be British, or of our flag or Queen, they don’t have to live in the U.K. Perhaps they should move to another country they prefer?"

I see. We're at the "telling brown people to go back where they came from is perfectly okay" stage of our collective national breakdown, are we? Disregarding the fact that her lot have just made it considerably more difficult to do as she advises, and glossing over the obvious jokes to be made about cancel culture, this sort of rhetoric is worrying, and not only because it suggests that we're electing people who struggle to walk and breathe at the same time.

It suggests this populist lurch to nationalism is part of an overall strategy to get people to rally together; and that is generally only done when you've got something you'd rather people weren't looking at. In the same way that Johnson took Starmer's questions about the Government's Covid strategies as some sort of personal affront even as the death toll mounted, this sudden outbreak of flag-shagging is designed to deflect and distract. To avoid scrutiny and close down debate. If you don't believe in everything we say, why don't you fuck off to France?

Because while patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel, nationalism is the last refuge of the nut job. Wrapping yourself in the flag tends to mean that you haven't got anything else going for you. "My country right or wrong" has been proven, countless times through history,to be wrong.

*People who study flags. Who says this isn't educational?


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

To all intents and purposes, a bloody great weed.

I absolutely love trees, and I get quite irate when they get cut down. One of the aspects of life with which I most often find myself most at odds with my fellow man is that I'm not really a fan of the tidy garden. I like to see a bit of biodiversity knocking about the gaff, and to that end I welcome the somewhat overgrown hedge, am pro the bit of lawn left to run riot, and, most of all, very anti cutting down trees. I love the things, habitat, provider of shade, easy on the eye, home to the songbirds that delight the ear at dawn, the best alarm clock of all. To me, cutting a naturally growing tree down is an act of errant vandalism, as well as monumental entitlement, it's been around longer than you. So, this being the case, let me say this. The public outcry over the felling of the tree at Sycamore Gap is sentimental, overblown nonsense, and the fact that the two men found guilty of it have been given a custodial sentence is completely insane. Prison? For cutting down a Sycam...

Oh! Are you on the jabs?

I have never been a slender man. No one has ever looked at me and thought "oh, he needs feeding up". It's a good job for me that I was already in a relationship by the early noughties as I was never going to carry off the wasted rock star in skinny jeans look. No one has ever mistaken me for Noel Fielding. This is not to say that I'm entirely a corpulent mess. I have, at various times in my life, been in pretty good shape, but it takes a lot of hard work, and a lot of vigilance, particularly in my line of work, where temptation is never far away. Also, I reason, I have only one life to live, so have the cheese, ffs. I have often wondered what it would be like to be effortlessly in good nick, to not have to stop and think how much I really want that pie (quite a lot, obviously, pie is great), but I've long since come to terms with the fact that my default form is "lived-in". I do try to keep things under control, but I also put weight on at the mere menti...

Inedible

"He says it's inedible" said my front of house manager, as she laid the half-eaten fish and chips in front of me, and instantly I relaxed.  Clearly, I observed, it was edible to some degree. I comped it, because I can't be arsed arguing the toss, and I want to make my front of house's lives as simple as possible. The haddock had been delivered that morning. The fryers had been cleaned that morning. The batter had been made that morning (and it's very good batter, ask me nicely and I'll give you the recipe some time). The fish and chips was identical to the other 27 portions I'd sent out on that lunch service, all of which had come back more or less hoovered up, we have have a (justified, if I do say so myself) very good reputation for our chips. But it was, apparently, "inedible". When it comes to complaints, less is more. If you use a hyperbolic word like that, I'll switch off, you've marked yourself as a rube, a chump, I'm not g...